


The Nerd in Detention

by WakeUpDreaming



Series: Quintis High School AU [1]
Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Detention, F/M, Nerd!Toby, Punk!Happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 04:52:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5234861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WakeUpDreaming/pseuds/WakeUpDreaming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Happy notices an unfamiliar face in detention one afternoon. She's not prepared for how familiar that face is about to become.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nerd in Detention

**Author's Note:**

> It happened. A High School AU has happened. I'm never getting out of this fandom.

Happy kicks her boots up onto the desk, blowing a bubble from her gum and giving the new kid a once over.

“What’d you do?” Happy asks. She blows another bubble and lets it pop, the crack loud enough to echo around the empty classroom.

He looks uncomfortable, nervous, and Happy feels like she’s probably not helping. Good. He doesn’t belong here – she can already tell. Might as well make him know it.

“Gambling,” he says.

Happy scoffs. “You?” She swings her feet down. “You look like a good breeze would knock you over. I could take you out. You wouldn't last if a bookie got pissed.”

He offers her an unexpected smile. “You’d be surprised how effective counting cards is when the people you’re playing with can barely add beyond twenty.”

Happy returns the smile without planning on it. “And how’d you get caught?” She leans forward, resting her elbows on her jeans. She watches his eyes flicker from her face to the front of her shirt, and she rolls her eyes. “Look, I know this is probably the first time you’ve talked to a girl since third grade,” she says, “but eyes up here, bucko.”

The boy goes bright red. “S-sorry,” he says. “I got ratted out by one of the guys I got six hundred bucks off of. Told the principal.” He shrugs and gives Happy a little smirk that adds a little edge to his face. “Didn’t get detention until I said I’d make it rain.”

“Well that was stupid,” Happy says. She looks around, eyes landing on the clock. “You could have been doing something fun at home by now, kid. But you’re stuck here.”

“Not really,” he replies quietly. “This is better than what I’d be doing.”

Happy frowns. “What, rich kid doesn’t have Christmas presents from Mommy to fall back on?”

He’s silent for a few minutes, but Happy doesn’t miss the way he curls up on himself.

“Touch a nerve?” Happy asks, but she keeps her voice gentle.

He shrugs, shoulders slumping. "I know you're joking," he says quietly, "But the thing is least here somebody talks to me.”

Happy feels like he kicked her in the chest, because the way he says it is the way she feels every damn day in every damn foster home.

She moves closer to him, and their knees brush. The boy jolts at the touch, his eyes widening so much that he looks even younger than he is.

“I’m Happy,” she says, holding out her hand.

“I’m not,” he says. “Why are you happy?”

She groans. “For fuck’s sake, kid, it’s my name.”

He looks at her like she just told him she raises turkeys for a living. “Who named you Happy?”

She leans back in her chair. “I did, thanks very much,” she says defensively. “Didn’t like my birth name. Appreciated the irony of being called Happy when I was anything but.”

He's quite for a moment. Then - “Toby,” he says. “I’m Toby.”

Their conversation grinds to a halt when the teacher and the rest of the students plow in. They sit silently and do homework, and Happy blows through her AP Physics, AP Calc, and AP Chemistry homework in fifteen minutes each. The first draft of her history essay, however, is driving her up the wall.

Something skitters across her notebook and she finds a little, perfectly folded paper on her notebook. She looks up to see Toby smiling at her.

She looks down at the paper again and reads it. _If that’s for Carlson’s class I’ve got all the research. French involvement in the Revolutionary War, right?_

Happy looks over again and raises an eyebrow at him. Instead of catching the hint he just smiles so sincerely it hurts and nods.

Happy nods back, unsure of where this is going, and feels weirdly content for the rest of detention, which is a sentence that she’s pretty sure has never been thought before.

They make their way outside at 5, and Happy watches Toby walk toward the bus stops.

“Where are you going?” Happy asks, her tone more demanding than she intends.

Toby spins around, looking startled. “Home,” he says.

“That way?” Happy gestures with her thumb. “You don’t have a car or something?”

Toby’s silent for just long enough that Happy realizes that he doesn’t have a car.

“You want a ride?” Happy asks before she can stop herself.

Toby blinks. “You have a car?”

Happy grins, allowing a little bit of mischief into her smile. “Not quite.”

She grabs the sleeve of his ratty hoodie and pulls him in the direction her bike is parked, and he stumbles outside with her.

He freezes, though. “A motorcycle?” he asks, looking wary and nervous.

“Come on, you’d rather take a bus than ride this?”

She only realizes just how it sounded when Toby’s jaw drops and he stares at her with absolute shock.

“I meant the motorcycle,” Happy says. She can’t resist adding a, “perv,” to the end of it.

Toby nods. “Yeah,” he says. “Sorry. You don’t have to.”

“But I want to,” Happy says. “I mean, in exchange for that research you have on France.”

Toby nods, looking a little nervous but walking to her bike anyway.

“How do I get on this?” he asks, and he looks a little adorable as he stares at the bike, perplexed.

Happy pulls out her extra helmet and hands it to him as she swings her legs over the seat.

“Hop on,” she says over her shoulder. The bike shifts as he sits behind her and Happy feels an unexpected heat when Toby wraps his hands around her waist gently.

“You’re gonna have to hold on a little tighter if you want to survive this,” Happy says.

“If you don’t want me to make dirty jokes you shouldn’t say things that are so easy to turn into dirty jokes,” Toby says loudly over her shoulder.

Happy replies by gunning it down the school’s driveway, and can’t help but laugh when Toby grips her harder as they fly down the road.

“Left!” Toby shouts into her ear as they zoom down Main Street. “Take a left!”

Exhilaration floods through Happy as the bike tilts just a little bit, but judging from Toby’s full on shrieking he isn’t feeling quite as good as she is.

“Loosen up, geek,” she shouts over the rush of air.

“If I loosen up anymore I’m gonna fall off!” he wails.

He shouts a few more directions until they pull up in front of an apartment complex that looks almost as awful as Happy’s last foster home.

“Yeah, I, uh,” Toby pulls off his helmet and ruffles at his hair, “I’m not exactly a rich kid.”

Happy has no idea what to say, so she settles for what she hopes is an understanding smile.

After a few minutes, she says, “Come on,” she says, “how about you show me that research.”

With that, Toby’s face lights up. “It’s interesting, I swear. I mean history is all one big soap opera. People are so weird – can you believe at one point two popes existed and they just kept trying to excommunicate each other?” He laughs a little, then stops abruptly. “Sorry. I just – people are really interesting.”

Happy nods. She doesn’t share the sentiment – they’re only interesting when they pay her forty bucks for a fake ID – but she appreciates his enthusiasm. She doesn’t remember feeling that happy about anything but her bike for ages.

“Come on,” Toby says, going for the door.

Happy stops at the steps. “Are – are your parents home?”

Toby shrugs. “My mom never leaves her bedroom. And my dad’s probably at the tracks.” He smiles, then it falls. “Oh. I – you don’t need to feel weird or anything. Or if you do, I can go in and get the papers –”

Happy’s not afraid of Toby doing anything. To be honest, she almost hopes he’d try, which is something she has no idea she wanted to admit. And besides, even if he did try something she didn’t want, she could take him down with both hands tied behind her back.

Happy was more afraid of talking to Toby’s parents and pretending she’s not the kid from the bad side of the tracks. And she hates talking to adults.

Hates it.

She follows Toby inside and is only a little bit startled when he asks to take her coat and hangs it on a coat rack.

“Just because the house is a dump doesn’t mean it has to look like one,” Toby says with a shrug.

Happy feels a little naked in her purple skull tank top, and it’s chilly in the house.

Toby knocks on a door down the hallway. “Mom?” he says. “Are you okay?”

There’s no answer, but she must have done something to assure Toby that everything was fine, because he nods and smiles as he closes the door.

“Sorry,” he says. “I just like to check on her. Make sure she’s okay.”

Happy wonders what it would be like to have a mom to check on. Hers died the day she was born, something she’ll probably never be able to reconcile.

Happy follows Toby, even though she’s fairly certain he’d be more than willing to just get the research and bring it out to her, because she has a strange desire to see how this silly boy from detention who is sincere and vibrant and sad lives.

The room is shockingly bright, messy and abstract murals adorning the walls. On a far wall are posters of, of all things, bands from the 70’s and 80’s, and Happy approves of the Queen poster being front and center.

“Room’s a mess,” Toby mutters, going for his closet.

“Cleaner than mine,” Happy offers. She finds herself unsure of her body, so she folds her arms and leans against the door frame.

He pulls out a file bin and pulls out a manila folder labeled “US History.” He smiles at her. “Here we go.” When he stands, he holds out the folder to her.

Before she can think about her words, Happy asks, “Why don’t you show me what’s important?”

That’s how they end up at Toby’s kitchen table, poring over the different articles and information. Happy picks up something that looks like an article relating to the topic and reads it as Toby is in the kitchen getting them waters. They’ve been talking and working for hours, Happy helping him with some calculus problems and Toby being surprisingly adept at making the English paper on Midnight’s Children sound like her writing when it isn’t. She hasn’t missed the way that they’ve shifted closer to each other as time has passed. It’s hard for her to focus, which she doesn’t understand, because geek has never been her type.

This one is different than usual.

Toby walks back in with a smile on his face and two drinks in his hands. “Like I said,” he begins, “it’s easy to imitate someone’s language. All you have to do is really look at what they’ve written and boom! You know exactly how to write like them.”

Happy nods and holds up a paper. “How about this?”

“About what?” Toby asks, taking a sip of water and shrugging off his hoodie.

“This,” says Happy. “Did you cite this one? It’s right on the topic. I figure I could just copy your citation if it was okay.”

Toby blushes pink. “Um, actually,” he says, hiding a smile, “that’s my paper.”

Happy’s jaw drops. “You wrote this?” she asks. “Damn, I need you to tutor me in writing if you can do," she gestures toward the paper, "this.”

Toby shrugs. “I could do that, if you wanted.” He pauses. "Tutor you, I mean."

Happy shifts a little bit. “I mean, you don’t have to,” she says, unsure of why she’s blowing the offer off, “I just…” She trails off and ends in a shrug.

Toby walks toward her, and now that he doesn’t have that stupid hoodie on Happy realizes he’s not as skinny as she first thought. She hates herself a little bit for realizing it.

“You let me know what would help,” Toby says quietly. “And I’ll help. Good deal?” He smiles at her and he's so damn sincere that it damn near kills her.

Happy nods, and she can tell she’s blushing.

What she does next, she will never be able to explain. She grabs the front of his shirt and pulls him down, kissing him without thinking.

He’s frozen for a split second before resting a hand on the side of her face, kissing back with equal effort.

Her nerves are on fire, and it only motivates her to kiss him harder, pull him closer, move her hand from the front of his shirt to the back of his neck.

“Wait,” Toby says, looking bewildered. “Is this really happening?”

“Is what really happening?” Happy asks, feeling breathless.

“Are – I didn’t expect this,” he finally manages to say.

Happy shrugs, not missing the fact that her hands are still on the back of his neck. “Neither did I,” she offers. “But you’re way more interesting than my history paper, so.”

His smile grows smug. “Oh, really?” he says.

Happy frowns. “I’m not sure I like the cocky side of you,” she says. “Stop talking.”

She pulls him back down to her, and his hand moves from her face to her hair. Happy walks them backwards and pushes him against his kitchen counter.

He winces a little. “Okay, ow,” he says. “Also,” he leans a little away from her, and Happy tries not to let the sting show on her face. “Shouldn’t we – I don’t want to –” He exhales deeply like he’s trying to focus. “I don’t want to get too – too too, if that makes any sense.”

“Not really,” Happy says, dropping her hands and stepping away from him. She folds her arms across herself again, almost more of a self-hug.

He looks nervous. “I just – I don’t know why you’d like me,” he says.

Happy shrugs. “Who says I like you?”

She regrets the words the second they come out of her mouth.

“Right,” Toby says. She hates herself a little bit – he looks like a kicked puppy with that pout and those eyes.

“That – I didn’t mean that,” Happy says wincing. “I just mean that, well, we only met, like, five hours ago, right?”

He nods.

She sighs. “Okay. I’m not – I don’t do the words thing.” She winces. “I don’t not like you.”

He nods slowly. “And I don’t not like you either,” he replies.

“So,” she says, risking a step closer to Toby. “Can I go back to kissing you?”

“I don’t know,” Toby says, that little smirk coming back on his face, “I don’t usually kiss people I don’t not like.”

“Are you always like this?” Happy says, unable to keep a little laughter from her voice. “Because I’m not sure how I feel about you being nerdy and smug. That combination just feels wrong."

“I’m too smart for my own good,” Toby says, leaning forward and hooking an arm around her waist. Happy’s a little surprised, a little startled at it, but she shuffles close to him, her boots clunking against the floor. “Don’t be surprised if I start getting condescending.”

Happy scoffs. “I’d like to see you try,” she says. But he’s looking at her again in that way that sets her skin on fire, so she takes the hint and leans in against him, lining her body against his. He gasps, a sharp intake of breath that clearly wasn’t intentional. “I still think you’re a little nervous around me,” she says. “Which is good." She leans in, her lips at his ear. "I think we’re a long way from you being condescending.”

Toby licks his lips. "Agreed," he says, voice a little weak.

Happy’s sick of words at this point, so she stands on her toes and kisses him, letting him wrap his arms around her back.

And then –

“Okay,” she says, reaching back and moving his hand from her ass, “no.”

He pouts. “No?”

“Not right now,” Happy says firmly. “Geez, you’re a little less innocent than you project yourself.”

He nods. “That’s kind of my shtick.”

Happy steps away and walks back over to the table. “Well then,” she says, “we can get back to that after I’ve finished my paper and you’ve proven that you deserve it.” She looks over at him. “And this paper isn’t due for another week.”

That last bit sends his expression back to what first drew her to him – the baffled, slightly thrown off kid with his eyes wide as dinner plates.

She throws him her best grin. “What?” she asks. “Did you really think I’d be thrown off by you?” She rests her elbows on the table, a little excited to be messing with this weird boy with messy hair and more attitude than he should have. “You’re in for a hell of a ride, kid.”


End file.
